


Peach Lemonade

by WhisperGrey



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Barebacking, Bitty's wearing cutoffs, M/M, Mistaken Identity, PWP, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, you can always depend on the kindness of strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperGrey/pseuds/WhisperGrey
Summary: When Jack runs into car trouble on a quiet Georgia backroad, help comes in the form of handsome young man willing to give Jack a ride, but only if Jack promises to return the favor first.





	Peach Lemonade

Jack is a man of particular tastes, but sometimes even his proclivities take him by surprise. Case and point: the blonde, sun-drenched Adonis in cut-offs selling fresh summer peaches from a roadside stand; suddenly and inexplicably becoming the hottest thing Jack’s ever laid eyes on. An angel offering salvation from the relentless Georgia heat.

Sight alone almost makes up for the few meters Jack’s been walking looking for gas.

“Sugar, you look like five miles of bad road,” the man chides, his voice refreshing as a cool breeze, offering a sweating bottle of orange tinted lemonade to Jack. “Here. Take a moment and have a drink. On me.”

“Thank you,” Jack drops the gas can to take the glass, gesturing down the cracked concrete byway. “Funny you should say that, does feel like I just came down five miles of bad road.”

“I’m not surprised, nothing around here in any direction. Nothin’ ‘cept me.”

“Well thank god for that, eh?”

The peach lemonade is delicious but Jack’s too parched to savor it, knocking it back with all the grace of a third period water bottle.

“You can call me Bitty,” the man offers with a shy smile, giving Jack a once over when Jack wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Everyone else seems to.”

“Oh, well, how can they say that?” Jack ducks his head, flicking his gaze to the slight bulge in Bitty’s shorts. “Nothing ‘Bitty’ about you. I’m Jack.”

“Well, Mister Jack,” Bitty smiles, teeth bright against his tan skin and sun-bleached curls, tugging a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from Jack’s face. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t offer a handsome gentleman some relief in his time of need?”

“Relief, eh?”

Bittle nods.

“How about a ride?”

The double entendre is plain as day, but Jack doesn’t expect anything to come of it. Not really. Mostly he’s hoping for a laugh, he definitely doesn’t expect Bitty to take him by the hand, around the side of the truck not facing the road. Bitty pulls the cab door open and leans against the driver’s seat, ass pushed out invitingly to tease, “Well? You said you needed a ride, never did specify what kind. Unless I’m mistaken.”

Reflexively, Jack reaches down to palm himself, making sure he’s still hard because he’s certain he’s already come once since this conversation started. Bitty’s watching over his shoulder, pink-cheeked and sultry.

“I’m not mistaken, am I, Sugar?”

“Are you real?” Jack breathes, running his hands along his angel’s waist, down to his hips, his ample thigh and tight ass, before digging his fingers into the belt loops and tugging down. The denim sticks a touch, a combination of tight fabric and August humidity, but Jack manages with a little help from his new friend — and, what do you know, no tan lines.

“Real as the ground you’re standing on, I can promise you that.”

“Sunbathe?” Jack’s breath leaves him. What he wouldn’t do to get this man alone in a room, take some time to explore.

“Mmm, all this sunshine? Of course,” Bitty arches, pressing his bare backside to Jack’s front. “C’mon, Sugar. Backroads are only so private for so long on Sundays. Last thing we need are church ladies stumbling on our roadside misdeeds — Ah, Sugar.”

With one hand, Jack runs his thumb between Bitty’s bare cheeks, teasing his hot hole, waiting for the muscles to relax; with the other, Jack shoves down the waistband of his shorts to rest himself against Bitty’s ass.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jack teases, spreading his partner’s cheeks to get a good look at the pink muscle winking up at him. “Fast and dirty? You don’t play the fiddle, do you?”

Bitty looks over his shoulder, a sly smile tugging his lips. “You calling me a devil, Mister Jack?”

“I’m saying you couldn’t stop me from selling my soul, right now,” Jack rubs the head of his cock over Bitty’s hole, not quite pressing in, not quite the opposite, either. “I’d die a happy man.”

“Flatterin’ as you are,” Bitty sighs, almost going limp, relaxed enough Jack finds himself being drawn in without much effort. He’d gawk at the skill if he wasn’t so wrapped up in the sensation. “I like my city boys on the living side of things. Now stop yammerin’ and hop to. This hole ain’t gonna fill itself.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, he grasps Bitty’s hips and tugs him back, burying himself to the hilt with a gasp, the sudden intrusion too much or not enough, but after a beat, Bitty begins rocking, setting easy rhythm that has them both gasping.

Jack’s firing on all cylinders, it won’t take much to send him over the edge, in fact, with his hand already grasping his partner’s cock, all Bitty has to do is lean back against Jack’s chest and sigh, “Come on, Sugar, fill me right up,” and Jack is done, hips snapping up to spill himself inside the white-knuckled country angel braced against a dusty truck in the middle of nowhere.

“Tabarnak,” Jack grunts, staying put as Bitty’s orgasm flutters around his spent dick. “Think we need to revisit the devil conversation, eh?”

Bitty laughs, sliding off Jack’s wilting erection and tugging up his shorts, not bothering to clean the mess before helping tuck Jack back into his pants.

“Should probably get you some help for your car, now,” Bitty straightens Jack’s shirt and motions for him to lean down, which he does, and Bitty takes his lips in a gentle kiss that is miles removed from the debauchery of the last few minutes.

“Oh, so you don’t want me to walk all the way back to Judy’s in this heat?” Jack counters, burying his fingers in Bitty’s overgrown fringe. "You know I had ice cream in the car. I'm letting the kids blame you."

“Hush up and get in the truck, Zimmermann,” Bitty grins, wrapping his arms around Jack’s sweaty torso, looking up with his chin balanced on Jack’s sternum. “If we hurry we might have time for another go before everyone gets back.”


End file.
